Thursday, 15 August 2013

A.K. Ramanujan's grandmother's magical vag

An epitome of A.K Ramanujan's Parmenidean poetic universe is the pawky yet serenely pastoral image of his broad beamed Tam Bram grandmother, her face pressed impassively into a fishing net, being fucked in the ass by a refreshingly unfastidious fisherman- an event which occurred with some frequency. But why? My best guess is- in Akay's 'imagined-community' of a timeless. essentialist, South India- valetudinarian fishermen, fearful of sea-sickness, lounge around  Madras harbor pumping the broad backsides of passing Tambram matriarchs to protest a spiritually synoecist view of the Valmiki Ramayana.
What about the women sodomised towards this great Secular end? Sadly, it appears, they can't protest anything because they don't really have minds or hearts, just vast gaping orifices which is why- as Akay's good buddy U.R. Ananthamurthy showed in his novel 'Samskara'- they exist simply so as to get fucked and provide copy to worthless Careerist gobshites engaged on a PhD in Eng Lit at Birmingham or a Post Doc in Linguistics at Chicago or some other such crude Credentialist swindle.
However, Ramanujan goes on tell us, granny's twat has teeth- I'm not kidding, the shithead actually says this- and, for some unknown reason, patient bovine creature though she is, little discomfited by being incessantly taken from behind by an underemployed fisherman, she nevertheless suddenly sprouts vagina dentata and bites off the too trusting piscator's penis while yet it thrusts inside her.
Why does she do so? Is it because the fishermen were protesting against Valmiki Ramayana and her Vagina was of a, quod licet bovi, non licet Jovi, Hindutva tendency?
No. The truth is, it's all fantasy. Akay's granny wasn't actually fucked by a fisherman at all. He just made up the story to make himself sound interesting. Nor did granny really bite off the fisherman's prick with her razor sharp oyster shell snatch. Akay was telling lies.  But that's what poets do- right? Tell lies about Granny getting fucked in the ass and then biting off fishermen's pricks with her awesome Vag.
As Akay said about the Kuruntokai-
In their antiquity and in their contemporaneity, there is not much else in any Indian literature equal to these quiet and dramatic Tamil poems. In their values and stances, they represent a mature classical poetry: passion is balanced by courtesy, transparency by ironies and nuances of design, impersonality by vivid detail, leanness of line by richness of implication. These poems are not just the earliest evidence of Tamil genius. The Tamils, in their 2,000 years of literary effort, wrote nothing better. 
The problem here is that the Kuruntokai only exists in such sparse, paradigmatic form, because literary culture had already achieved an encyclopaedic scope and canonicity of reference. Furthermore, the 'stable marriage problem' of matching topoi, agents and events such that karmic obstructors (Umaswati's vighnyakaranamanatararayasaya) are colligationally conserved implies that this aesthetic encodes a rhetorical disputation of rival soteriologies in a characteristic and univocal 'centamil' manner.
Akay, worthless shithead that he was, believed that, in literature, Evolution works in reverse gear- Time moves backwards like his granny's vag devouring and biting off that poor fisherman's prick.
Ramanujan's own intellectual incuriosity and idionomic inedia did not make him a sort of living fossil magically revivified by contact with the Tamil Jurassic park he found in the Chicago library stacks- actually the books he stumbled upon were from the collection of Prof. Neelakanta Sastry and widely known back home- but perhaps his granny's magical vagina was prowling around down there and bit his head off which is why his bloodless shite is brainless also.

What then is Akay's lasting achievement? Well, prior to the Sixties, Indian history and literature were perceived as being rich and exciting and productive of patriotic zeal and a passion for progress.
 Educated people writing in English- like Chief Justice Ananthanarayanan- were equally conversant with Sanskrit and Tamil and Telugu and so forth. This meant that there was no hiatus, no gap, between English and the vernacular languages. What was known to the one, was known to the other. There was no unspeaking Subaltern or voices shipwrecked by the very Siren song of their vernacular, and therefore supposedly entirely context-bound, language.
 Tamil, prior to Akay's idiocy, had no 'anonymous bards and alientated mystics'. On the contrary, everybody has a rich back-story in which encounters with Vedic Rishis and victories in Sangam contests were intermixed, not merely to spice things up, but to attest to an underlying univocity.
Tamil movies and English language articles weren't too different from each other. They both drew upon the same well-springs of scholarship and subscribed to the same pragmatics of Modernity.
This wouldn't do. If Indian history, Indian literature, is interesting and romantic and soul stirring- urm... that's bad, right? Coz that's like Hindutva? Or K.M. Munshi type belles lettrism? Coz Munshi was Right Wing, yeah? So, starting with Romilla Thapar, the project of turning Indian history and literature into the dullest shite on the planet began in earnest. That's where Akay- with his worthless, witless, transcreations- came in handy.

You see Modernism isn't about stuff like 'bijli, pani, sadak'- no, it's about some shite spouted by worthless cunts with PhDs in worthless subjects. It's a fucking Credentialist Ponzi Scheme is what it is. At one time it was supposed to be Marxist in some subtle way but even that pretense has been dropped. It now claims to be 'Secular'. Why? Coz it's shit, that's why.
Modernism, in India, means reliable Electricity, Water, Transport, Property Rights, curbing corruption, giving Manufacturing industry a chance, good governance, the Rule of Law....i.e. the same stuff we've always wanted. Some fuckwits once pretended we actually needed some particular sort  of Revolution- but we've seen through those fuckwits. Now, the same fuckwits, who, truth be told, didn't want a Revolution at all, are pretending they are a bulwark against Narendra Modi. Why?
If he's a bad guy, it's the Rule of Law you've got to get behind, not pretending Akay's essay on the Ramayana wasn't shit.
Or, perhaps, you believe Akay's Grandmother and her magic Vag will suddenly appear out of his essay and bite off all them RSS dickheads.
If so, have the courage of your convictions. Build temples for the worship of Akay's granny's magical minge. Compose Purnanas about the miracles performed by that aforementioned snatch. Shake Doordarshan out of its torpor an  resurrect Ramanand Sagar to make a T.V series about Akay's granny's wonder-working Vag. Launch a Rath Yatra on behalf of it. The Somnath Temple must be destroyed so Akay's Granny's Vag can be suitably commemorated.
You know you want to.
Just do it already.

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